Well, it's not really break time. It's not like I'm going to go practice piano or anything. The very idea.
Hm. I started this blog post about 20 minutes ago. Since then, I've called the piano movers and scheduled a tentative piano moving date. Of course, they have to charge an arm and a leg extra (OK, about $250) because of the long distance. Also of course, they're planning to move another piano in this same area on July 30, and if they can also move MY piano (Yes, I'm talking about dear George) on July 30, they can cut me a good break on the extra charge.
Of course, we don't close on the house until the following week.
So told the piano mover I'd call him back. I immediately called the Patootie Bamboozler (a.k.a. our awesome realtor) and said, "Awesome Realtor, please call the Home Sellers and ask if they wouldn't mind having a piano moved into their lovely home before they've actually moved out of it." So the Patootie Bamboozler is calling the Home Sellers and is going to call me back.
OK, it's been a few minutes since I wrote that last paragraph. I had to send some work-related e-mails.
The Patootie Bamboozler hasn't called me back yet. I shall continue to multi-task until he does.
Yep. This has been yet another typical "break time" here in my Cubicle Paradise.
Ten minutes and several work-related tasks later ...
The House Seller has called me. I can just imagine the conversation the preceded this:
Patootie Bamboozler: Lovely Buyer wants to know if she can dump her piano on your living room floor while y'all are in the midst of packing up your life's belongings to move halfway across the country.
House Seller: She wants to do WHAT?
P.B.: I know, I know. Why don't *you* talk to her?
H.S.: You better believe I will! The nerve of Lovely Buyer! As if we have room for her stinkin' piano!
So, when I talked to House Seller, I assured her that George is not a big piano, and that he won't take up any room and will be as quiet as a mouse.
She was concerned that poor George might get scratched in moving and that I would blame her.
I assured her that (1) George is already so scratched up that another scratch or two during the move won't kill him, and (2) I will be happy to sign a "House-Seller-did-not-abuse-George" waiver when he's delivered.
20 minutes and several work-related tasks later ...
It looks like George is going to move into the house before Hubster, Hideaway, Beau, and I do. George will be a pioneer! Pioneer George!
Well. That was a productive "break time." And I got quite a bit of workplace work done as well.
Back to work for me!